


I Read the Bible But Forgot the Verses

by sunlightsmarrow



Series: Nobody Said It Was Easy [4]
Category: Captain America, Marvel, captain america: the winter soldier - Fandom, the winter soldier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Bucky's excited, Captain America - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, I'm really unrealistically excited for this chapter and I'm sorry, M/M, Post-Winter Soldier, Religion, Steve's excited, Support Group, bucky still has issues but they are waaay better, church, here it is, here's the slashiness starting to come out, i'm excited, isn't that true for everything, it's not really a date but it kinda is, we're all excited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:53:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1644533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlightsmarrow/pseuds/sunlightsmarrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky used to be good Catholic boys, so after the support group meeting (or at least attempt at it) Steve takes Bucky to church, where things end entirely unexpectedly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Read the Bible But Forgot the Verses

**Author's Note:**

> I read up on this and I guess Steve is actually protestant in the comics but since I know more about the Catholic church I'm just going to go with that. I'm sorry. Church experiences with the priest are based IRL and I'm sorry because that's probably really obvious when you read it. 
> 
> This chapter is probably my favorite so far next to the first one so please be nice. 
> 
> PS a stryker is a huge-ass military vehicle.

The next few months went similarly, but the recurrences of the Winter Soldier slowly turned verbal. Sometimes Bucky would writhe on the ground and scream and sometimes he would cry with those screams and other times the sounds that came out of him made Steve nauseous. Bucky would shut his eyes and roll into a small ball and rock, sometimes. Steve was thankful for the shut eyes because sometimes he wanted to break something himself when he could see Bucky's eyes, the stunning blue-ness clouded with fear and anger and this betrayal that made Steve's blood run hot and cold at the same time with anger and the same sort of chill that he experienced when he saw Stark fly up into that vortex, knowing that he should have never returned, but so grateful that he did.

If there could be a feeling to express a cat's claws scraping against the inside of his skull and lava consuming him from the inside out, that was the feeling Bucky would use to describe the pain during those episodes. Keeping the Winter Soldier back was worse than the slate-cleaning after he recognized something he wasn't supposed to recognize, and he wished that everything was wiped once more and that he would be trusted to Steve's care. Not wiped, of course, as the Winter Soldier, but as a perfect amnesia back to the 40s when life was simple and it was just boys killing boys in a far-off field.

Other times, Bucky felt like he had been hit with a stryker. He'd be standing, cursing Steve and everything that ever existed until his voice was raw and raspy in this throat. He'd speak as if the Winter Soldier was a person who had a running dialogue of hate and bloodlust. It terrified Bucky when that happened because it felt like he was willing his heart not to beat, his muscles so tense and constantly at the verge of striking out, but being held back with the strongest of wills. After these episodes, Steve usually took Bucky to the gym where he'd be able to punch and throw things but it would serve him well and be less likely to hurt anyone. 

After Bucky had put Sam in the hospital, he moved back to his old place. Bucky and Steve visited sometimes, about once a week, and Bucky attended the meetings that Sam held and Steve tagged along sometimes, too, especially at the beginning when Bucky didn't want to go anywhere, especially not by himself. 

The first time, they had to leave early. 

~~~

The last couple of people were filing in. Sam hadn't arrived yet, but Steve and Bucky were seated in the back row, Steve protectively pressing his knee to Bucky's. Every so often (as in about twice a minute), one of the veterans would turn around and shoot Bucky a glare. Bucky squirmed in his seat, slouching low and breaking contact with Steve. Steve shot him a worried look, but Bucky didn't really care to notice. He wished his hair was long again so he could hide his face. He had gotten looks from people before, but this time, of all places, he felt most uncomfortable. They, of all people, should understand that it wasn't his fault. He didn't choose any of it. His breathing became more shallow as panic swept over him. His tongue darted out and he bit his lower lip, his eyes falling on the worn patch on Steve's knee. He squirmed and he watched Steve's legs move as he slouched down, pressing the entirety of their legs together and resting his arm over the back of Bucky's chair. He acted as a literal security blanket, but one with holes that let in the monsters, despite its best efforts.

The guy who had turned around poked his buddy and pointed at the refugee. Bucky clenched his metal hand angrily. He gulped, trying to swallow down a comment for the men to mind their own business. Something along the lines of profanity that Steve or anyone else in the room wouldn't approve of was to fall from his lips before he caught himself, deciding to keep quiet and try to distract himself with something. He looked at the plating on his arm and even glanced at the star painted on and thought about the irony in how his best friend's white star was for purity and his red star was for 'honor.' Only about as honorable as an unstoppable, heartless, brain-dead assassin could be. 

"Steve..." Bucky licked his lips and glanced up at his friend, those aqua orbs dark. He was dangerously on the edge of losing it. "I don't think I can do this yet." He glanced back to the front. Sam had walked in and was starting his talk. Bucky tried to focus on Sam, his face, his eyes, and his mouth as he spoke, but even Sam acted a little odd, like Bucky shouldn't have been there. He kept glancing back and wouldn't look at Bucky's face, but at his arm, and the man was tempted to rip it off and leave the scars where his arm used to be for everyone to see. The scars were still there on Sam's head and Bucky wished that he could melt into the floor. Another furtive glance came his way.

Steve's eyes scanned Bucky's face, which had suddenly opened to a child-like fear. Bucky flexed his jaw, now a palette of defensive rage. His day-old stubble darkened his face even farther. His cheekbones stuck out too much on his face, still, and his pallor was too pale. A tinge of red was on the very edge of his jaw, but it was hard to notice with the scruff that climbed on the edge of his neck to the middle of his cheeks. He would still be easily considered handsome by the women that Steve knew (except maybe Natasha, because she was probably still a little wary of the poor soldier), but healthy Bucky was better than this vampiric shell.

"Let's go," whispered Steve. He stood, and Bucky was instantly on his heels. He watched Steve give Sam an apologetic gaze, but Sam only nodded understandingly. He didn't break in his talks and questions and his voice followed them as they tramped down the hall, their sneakers squeaking on the freshly-waxed floor. Bucky didn't look at Steve, but down at his shoes and most of the time out the windows as he walked by. The footholds of summer were nearly falling away from the mountain of winter, and the chill that breezed through the building was not entirely unpleasant, but only cold enough to remind a casual walker what was to come. It was overcast and all of the trees were dead. It didn't seem like it would be a bad winter, but those sorts of things were only old-lady speculation.

They walked in the chill breeze for a couple of blocks. Bucky's tee shirt didn't do much against the cold, and he huddled into himself, hunching his shoulders and tucking his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. They felt safe in there, warm. Bucky's nose ran and the hint of a drizzle kissed his bare arms. Steve had had the sense to wear some sort of jacket, but he also seemed to be walking with a purpose, as if there was a place he had in mind for them to go. 

Bucky waited for a jogging pair to go by before asking, "What's our destination?" He took the time to take his hand out of his pocket and wipe his nose before returning it to its place. He glanced up at Steve, who was walking as if it were a clear summer day with a his Captain America face on, which was sunshine enough for the darkness that seemed to be a cloud wherever Bucky went lately. It made him feel a little better about himself. Steve was also radiating heat (like a sun, again), so Bucky came a little closer, their hips brushing so slightly that neither of them really noticed if it wasn't for Bucky falling a little and sending Steve off his straight path to avoid being knocked over. Bucky reached out to grab him and muttered an apology. 

"I should have made you change into something nicer." A wry smile played at the blonde's lips and confusion furrowed Bucky's brow. Steve Rogers had been acting strangely lately, the way his body seemed to be falling into an ease of touches and smiles sent Bucky's way. While Steve was bigger, they tended to share clothes often enough and Bucky would apologize when they'd brush past each other and he could smell himself on Steve. Steve, conversely, did a good job of his laundry so his clothes always smelled, if Bucky remembered the bottle right, like 'Vanilla Christmas Cookie', which was nice in its own right and totally not in a creepy 'Look at me. I smell like you.' sort of way, not that Bucky would really distinguish creepy, especially at the point when he had started to notice.

Today, though, they wore their own clothes, and the touches were there but the smile was harder to come by. Bucky didn't really know why he had a catalog of these things, but he did and they were 'just residual from when his observational skills were crucial,' as he liked to ration.

Spires were coming up before them and all of a sudden Bucky didn't want to be on this walk anymore. There was a pizza place, a thrift shop, and a car insurance company between here and the church, but Steve didn't seem to be looking for a specific place, as if he might forget the address. 

"What day is it?" Bucky's voice was harsh as the rain came down harder, now a gentle pelting of precipitation. It didn't smell like the clothing detergent, but more like the suffocating humidity of an over-due summer storm. The neon lights flickered on around them as the sky became darker. 

"Looks like a storm is coming," said Steve, glancing up at the sky with that face of sunshine that Bucky almost wished would be eclipsed. When the clouds had blotted out the sky, what right had the sun to keep on shining? Steve finally looked to his left in Bucky's direction, and that smile was still there, mocking the sour face that was being reciprocated. 

"You know that there is no way that Bucky Barnes is walking into that church, what with all that's happened. Confirmation was supposed to be the end of my responsibilities." 'And with the Devil incarnate having a strong grip on me, what use would it be anyway?' It was more than that, though. He didn't need help from someone who let this happen to him. God had abandoned him on that operating table sixty years ago. In his own right, Bucky shouldn't have even been alive right now, and yet the all-loving was playing some sort of game with his mind and his soul, seeing if he could fuck it up well enough to play doctor with.

"But it's so different now. Just bear with me, okay? It's only a daily mass, so nothing big. You can just look at the stained glass windows, if you want. I know that was always your favorite part of church, anyway." He was babbling. For a moment, Bucky thought that Steve might be nervous, possibly regretting his decision.

"Shut up. You and I both know that it was the girls in their Sunday best." Fine. If that's what Steve wanted, that's what he'd get. Bucky could play along. He could stare at the stained glass windows and the girls in their much more risque clothing. Steve could pray to a God who he thought might care. It wasn't like Bucky had anything better to do.

They jogged up the steps when a gust brought rain down hard in their faces. A flash of light, and thunder rolled. Bucky stiffened and grabbed Steve's arm, a habit he had acquired whenever he heard thunder or fireworks. They sounded too much like the roaring in his head and the gunfire that had filled his life for the past...too damn many years.

When they reached the top of the steps and were safely tucked under the awning, Steve placed his hands on Bucky's shoulders, squaring them to each other. "How are you doing, Buck?" That pouty face was back on Bucky's lips and a shadow of fear was still in his eyes. He stood up a little straighter and centered his weight. The question had been asked about once a week since Steve found him in a more-or-less permanently human state. His eyes were even with the man in front of him. Every week he had come up with something different to say. It was always negative. He still lay awake at night wishing he was dead, just not every night, and only really at night unless something awful happened to trigger a flood of self-hate. 

He broke eye contact and looked up at the inscription on the wall. 'Peace to all who enter.' Peace wasn't really an option right now, so like the rest of the things in his life for the past few years, he was going to force peace into his life.

He didn't utter a word, but stepped away from Steve and pulled the door open with his metal arm. The metal handle was loosened from its screws and rattled as he let it go. Steve's posture seemed to indicate that he wasn't pleased that Bucky hadn't answered his question, but he found it best not to press.

It was only a daily mass, and there were maybe thirty people there. Steve scooted into the back pew and Bucky slid in behind him. There were a good five or so pews in front of them until they reached the first person. The church was decently large on the inside, and at this point, they were about half-way through the first reading. Bucky wasn’t too terribly surprised that he remembered the order of the mass. He had go at least once a week when they were in the orphanage together. It was a little cold in the stone house of God, and Bucky found himself pressed against Steve’s shoulder. Steve growled a response, like the rest of the congregation, and Bucky found it interesting. It was not entirely different from what he remembered as an innocent, from the language to even the artwork. How free and easy it all looked. It looked real and unintimidating, but maybe that wasn't the right word because as the priest looked over his congregation as he read the Gospel, he laid eyes on Bucky and Steve and stiffened, his voice stopping mid-sentence, and the pews creaked as 60 eyes focused on the pair. Bucky moved like he was going to get up. He didn't need this to happen again, from a room full of men far away from The Lord to a chosen few, it didn't matter. He was a freak, disconnected. The curve of him against his best friend wasn't comforting to the Catholics, anyway, but it didn't stop him from maybe nuzzling a little closer when Steve laid a hand on him to soothe his flighty movements.

As the priest continued to speak, Steve whispered, "Don't let them get to you. I've read up on a lot since the change and half of the--" He cut off and suddenly was staring profoundly at the man who was speaking. He was on the lower side of forty and wore glasses. For a priest, he looked a little radical, with his bald head and soul patch. He had a lilting voice, like he was singing his words. Steve furrowed his brow in confusion, and then responded, "Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ," and then sat down.

"Half of them don't really know what's being taught here."

As the homily was being given, Steve’s eyes were riveted to the man who was talking about what Christ got out of being born a human. Bucky zoned out about a minute-and-a-half in and rested his head on Steve’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and tucked his nose against his clavicle. The priest’s words drifted into a haze, and soon, Bucky was fast asleep, the smell of Steve filling his nose.

~~~

There was a gentle rocking on Bucky’s shoulder and he fell forward into Steve’s lap with a quiet grunt. He wiped the drool from his mouth and ran his metal hand through his hair, spiking it up to a perfect example of bed-head. The priest was standing there, staring over them. Bucky tried not to flinch at the ominous scene before him: a man clothed in dark garb silhouetted against candlelight. Steve moved, his hand gently brushing through Bucky’s hair on the way up to rub his eyes. He caught sight of the priest and jumped to his feet, leaving Bucky’s head to smack against the pew. The brunette cursed and didn’t notice when the priest gave him a dirty look. He kicked his legs up and managed to be in a sitting position.

“Do you gentlemen have a place to stay? I can refer you to some shelters, if you...wait.” He glanced from Bucky to Steve and then back again. “Haven’t I seen you two before?” Bucky glanced up at Steve, who rolled his eyes and shuffled his feet. 

“Most likely, sir,” he replied. “My friend and I have been on the news a little. I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. He fell asleep and I didn't want to wake him.” Bucky remembered that this had been the first time in a week that he hadn't woken up screaming.

The priest nodded and glanced back down at Bucky once again. “And him…” Bucky ran his tongue over his lower lip and pulled himself up to a standing position. The priest shied away as Bucky sent him a half-lidded gaze and softly pressed his lips together. The priest recognized him from his activities months ago but most people who did recognize him didn’t think he had changed, or at least was on the road to change. It didn't even make sense, what with how much he was with Steve. Everyone’s points in this juncture were moot, except for reminding him that he was a monster and the monster lurks inside, cold and unforgiving as winter. Bucky was just tired.

“Let’s get out of here, Buck.” Steve clamped a hand on Bucky’s metal shoulder and pushed him past the priest. “I’m sorry, Father. Have a nice day.” His tone was not at all pleasant, but he didn’t seem to care as his hard eyes and firm hand nearly dragged Bucky out of the church.

It was dark outside. The rain had stopped, but the streetlights reflected the light and cast soft shadows on their faces. A car hissed by and the park across the street was deserted. They could still smell the rain and hear the drops fall from the trees, but the smell of the city was coming back and herding the rain into it's bed. 

“Steve,” Bucky began. He rubbed the back of his neck and came down the steps ahead of his friend. He glanced down the street and saw a particular neon light. He smiled, his body still shaking off the sleepiness and haze of a dreamless sleep. His eyes still weren’t fully open, a trait of his that he had forgotten happened, needing to snap to attention so quickly. He blinked a few times and his eyes returned to their original size. “Come have a drink with me.”

Steve tilted his head in confusion. He had dug his hands into the front pocket of his jeans and glanced in the direction that Bucky was faced. The yellow of the streetlights reflected on his shirt and Bucky could see some definition in his muscles. The sleep-mussed hair made Bucky’s pulse pound in his ears and he hadn’t felt like that in such a long time that he needed something to forget that the man who had saved his life had fallen asleep in a church with him, wearing a poor excuse for a shirt that had a visible spot of Bucky’s own drool on it. It was an odd marking, but in the back of his mind, Bucky saw it as his own marking anyway. For once, something to make him temporarily forget. The bustle of people now around and the darkness might make them a little more ambiguous to an ever scrutinizing crowd, if Steve said yes. For once, Bucky _wanted_ to forget. For once, Bucky had a choice. 

The way he phrased it, it might have been considered a date, but hell, they were living with each other, going to support groups together, and wore each others clothes. Frankly, it was only a matter of time, Bucky rationed. He’d never really done this with a guy before, though, and wasn’t quite sure how Steve would see this new development. Bucky hadn’t asked to do anything really social since he had come back, and if this was supposed to be a date, even he wasn’t sure that he realized it.

Steve loped down the steps and wrapped his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, tracing the star with his finger as his hand rested lazily. “I thought you’d never ask.”


End file.
